


Spying at Recess

by LostinFiction



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Fluff, I guess it's fluff I'm still new to fanfiction lingo but I think this would count as fluff right, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFiction/pseuds/LostinFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"i need an AU where Jake is a first or second grade elementary school teacher and he takes his class out for recess and they go on little adventures. and sometimes he gives the kids piggyback rides and dirk works in a building that has a window that overlooks the playground and he always sees jake and the kids and he gets a huge crush on jake and wants to ask him out for coffee or dinner but he’s too nervous." (<a href="http://animehead.tumblr.com/post/60653204536/i-need-an-au-where-jake-is-a-first-or-second-grade">x</a>)<br/>This is just a dumb, terrible (rushed) little ficlet but it was too cute of an idea, I couldn't help myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spying at Recess

> Be the school teacher.

                Your name is Jake English, and while it isn’t the most exciting position, the job you’ve taken as a school teacher has certainly been a rewarding one. Some of your collogues seem to think this is because you’re new and young and shouldn’t be fooled by your students’ innocent looking faces but you’ve elected not to listen to them. Besides, the kids had already seem to be taken with you. You didn’t think you’d be having any trouble.

                The elementary school you worked at didn’t have a bell. It was along the more gentle lines of a chime, which sounded to announce the end of the lunch period for your class, along with the other first grade class and the second graders to boot. You were one of the teachers assigned to help usher the children out to the playground. After that, your only official duty was to keep an eye on them. The kids, of course, usually had other ideas.

                “C’mon mister English!” One of the little ones was saying. “We’re gonna go esplore the jungle!”

                “Yeah, come with us!” said another. There were about ten of them, all from your own class circling your legs, a couple tugging on your shirt.

                “The jungle you say? Here on this very playground? How in blazes did I ever miss such a thing!” You say, having no trouble playing along. “Well I’d love to go on an expedition to see it. Please, lead the way!” And lead you they did, in the direction of a small collection of loosely spaced trees. One of them asked, “What’s a espedition?”

                You smiled down at him while you answered. “It sort of means an adventure where you go exploring, usually in search of something. What sort of things do you little ones think we’d find in a jungle??”

                “Maybe we’ll find some treasure!” one of the girls shouted excitedly.

                “Yeah like gold and jewels and stuff!”

                “Aw phooey; silver and gold can’t hope to compare to the exotic plants and critters we might come across, not if you ask me!” At this moment your group has approached the little grove of trees. “Everyone keep together now, we don’t want anyone getting lost in such a dangerous and mysterious place like an undiscovered jungle,” You tell them mock-seriously. “And everyone keep their eyes peeled for any sign of trouble . . .” A quick glance back tells you that they are indeed following your example, and the little hands on yours tighten.

                Suddenly, someone near the back gasped. “I saw something up in the trees move!”

                “What, what is it?” Several little voices ask together. You think you might see the bushy tail of a squirrel in the foliage.

                “It’s a tiger!” Another little voice screeched, and ran away. A couple joined him, but the rest hid behind you.

                “Alright, no one else make any more sudden loud noises,” you said, hushing them. “I don’t think it’s spotted us yet. I think we can manage to get out of here with our selves intact.” You led the kids through the trees, tiptoeing. After several seconds you announce the cost was likely clear now.

                “But maybe I should have someone up here with me to help lookout.” Quickly understanding what you meant, almost every set of arms went up to a chorus of ‘me’s and ‘pleases’. You lean down and pick up one of the kids and set him on your shoulders. “Up you go!” And you all set off once again, winding your way in different direction through the trees. The boy on your shoulders starts handing down leaves with bugs on them for everyone to look at and soon the others on the ground are collecting ‘jungle bugs’ as well, asking if they can take them back to class. And you all have a good time and are generally oblivious to any of the looks you were getting from any observing adults.

 

>Be an observing adult.

 

                You are now Dirk Strider, and for weeks now, you’ve been harboring a very embarrassing crush on a man you’ve never actually met. You have only seen him a number of times from the roof of the office building you work in part-time. And today is no different.

                There is no good reason for you to be so drawn to him, that black-haired teacher on the school playground. The first time you happened to spot him down below, closer to the beginning of September, you thought it amusing, and you might have been just a shade embarrassed for him. He was certainly the only one of the supervising adults playing with the kids like that. But the more you watched him, the less silly he looked. He was just having some fun. You started to notice over time how the kids actually pulled him into their little groups and how he seemed to comply with a smile you were just close enough to make out. If the kids liked him that much, more power to him. He must have been a good teacher. Hell, a great teacher. He had to be sweet. Maybe this was all your dumb lonely heart needed to latch itself onto the idea him.

                It wasn’t long before you had started looking forward to your lunch break, just to watch him. Not long before you found yourself thinking about him more and more, about talking to him, wondering what his voice was like, wondering if he was even nicer looking up close—and that was about the time you realized how bad you already had it for him. God, you hadn’t had a crush on anybody since high school.

                You’ve honestly considered introducing yourself but you were always stopped by a lack of any idea of how to go about it. What were you supposed to say? “Hello, I spy on you when you and the kids are out here at recess, do you want to get a coffee or something sometime?” No fucking way. So while you bided your time and tried to come up with a plan that wasn’t doomed to fail, you would just sit up here watching him like a pathetic—

                He looked up at you. Right at you, there was no doubt about it. You can’t remember the last time you were so startled, but you manage to not drop your sandwich off the side of the building. Then you notice the kids around him were looking at you too, and one little girl was pointing. Shit, she must have been the one to spot you. You resist the urge to duck and hide, since it was too late for that.

                But you do look away as casually as possible, attempting to make it look like you hadn’t even noticed them at all, and refrain from looking down at the playground again at all until you finish eating. You glance down once before going back inside and they look like they’ve gone back to whatever game they had been playing again. You’re both relieved and annoyed with yourself for being so conspicuous.

                You don’t have to come into work for a few days and by then most of your embarrassment from being caught looking at him has dissipated. The rest of it dissolves when your lunch break comes and no little kids point you out again and you settle back into your normal routine.

                And then about ten minutes later, something unusual happens. Mister Black-haired teacher, damn you wish you knew could at least know his name, raised his hand a bit at the kids he was playing with, as if he was turning down some request they had made, and they ran off without him. You watched him walk over to the playground fence that was closest to your building.

                And then he looked up at you. Startled once again and twice as embarrassed as last time, since after all that it must have meant he had been expecting you, you start to try to think of the best way to make an escape.

                Then he gives you a tentative little wave. Like an idiot, you find yourself returning it, your mouth twitching into a smile before you put both it and your arm back in check. He’s staring at you as openly as you had always stared at him and you decide you can’t take this anymore. Any pretense of maturity you have left be damned, you very suddenly duck down and crawl your way back to the doorway leading back downstairs. You spend the next few hours wondering if you should be expecting a police car to pick you up after work. The guy had to think you were _some_ kind of creep if he’d figured out that you regularly watched a kids playground.

                Since there were no sleek black and white cars out front when you left work, your anxiety eased up marginally. You turned to start walking to your bus stop.

                “Excuse me.” You felt a tap on your shoulder and turn around. You manage not to jump when you see that it’s him. God damn it, he _was_ even more attractive up close. It was also really weird to finally hear his voice.

                “Am I mistaken or were you the one up on the roof of this building earlier this afternoon?”

                “Um.” Fuck. “Y-yeah, that was me . . .” God dammit, Strider, don’t start stuttering.

                “I should probably introduce myself—my name is Jake English.” He held out his hand and after hesitating, you shook it.

                “Uh, Dirk Strider . . .”

                “Well Mr. Strider, can I ask you, out of curiosity, what you were doing up there?”

                “Eating my lunch.”

                “Is that all?”

                “Pretty much.” You were starting to feel defensive. That was really all you were doing after all. So what if you were people watching while you were up there. In fact, it made you feel silly about worrying about being in trouble all day. “Why do you ask?”

                “Well, while I hate to make judgments about strangers, spotting a man keenly observing a field full of young children seemed a bit fishy, so I took it upon myself to investigate.”

                “Oh fuck, no, it’s not like that at all.” Shit, this was such a mess. You should have just introduced yourself weeks ago. “I was seriously just eating my lunch up there and I just kind of noticed you playing with the kids and I thought it was cute so I was just kind of watching you.” Wait. Shit, pretend you didn’t say it like that. “I mean, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you think I was doing anything weird.”

                “Ohh. Well if that’s all it was, there’s no need to apologize.”

                “Uh. Okay. Thanks for understanding, I guess.”

                “Hmm. I do have one other question though. Why did you look so guilty when you saw me notice you?”

                “Oh, uh.” You stalled. “Did I look that way?”

                “Mr. Strider, I have a class full of six year olds. I know a guilty look when I see one.”

                “Well you know, I was. Just worried you might ‘a thinking what it sounds like you were thinking.”

                He seemed to be watching you carefully. Then he smiled gently.

                “Alright. Just one more question.”

                “Yeah?”

                “Would it be terribly forward of me to ask you if you’d like to get a coffee sometime?”

                You blinked twice before answering. “Uh. No! That sounds, uh. Good. I’d like that.” Christ, since when did you stumble over your words this much? This really _was_ starting to feel like high school all over again. You had to get a hold of yourself.

                “Are you busy right now?”

                “No, I think I have some time I can kill . . . Did you have somewhere in mind?”


End file.
